


Anarchy in the UK

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Irresponsible Minister of Magic, Ministry of Magic Needs to Sort Itself Out, Sirius Black Lives, Smoking, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: It was ridiculous, really, the laws you could skirt at the top of the legislative hierarchy.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 26
Kudos: 150
Collections: Career Day: A Dumbledore's Armada Flash Fic Competition





	Anarchy in the UK

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Career_Day](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Career_Day) collection. 



> Written for Dumbledore's Armada Discord Server Flash Comp hosted by missELY: Career Day 
> 
> **Prompt:** Minister of Magic

One of the perks of being in  _ this  _ office was that he could smoke and there was literally no one to tell him off.

With his black dragonhide boots kicked up on the old, oak desk, Sirius Black leaned back casually in his seat and enjoyed puff after puff of the most delicious tobacco he’d ever had. Sent straight from the Minister of Peru, packed by a local grower, and popped over by Portkey. It was ridiculous, really, the laws you could skirt at the top of the legislative hierarchy.

As the thought occurred to him, Sirius peeked around the room and as his eyes landed on a small, locked box, he stood. “Aha!”

The best whiskey in the UK was also hidden here; a treat from the Prime Minister of Ireland. And it was all his for the chugging, which he did fast and with only moderately stinging eyes.

Even when his vision began to blur and the office around him swayed in a cloud of earthy smoke, Sirius carried on drinking. It was the British way, after all. The only time to approve legislation and veto bills was, in his esteemed opinion as the sole heir to the Most Ancient and Nobel House of Black, happened to be when one was properly pissed.

And he was.

Which meant the centaurs could parade around the center of London to draw attention to their cause. And the goblins could start a new chapter of Gringotts at the expense of the Creature Division. The funding request from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would not see another day, however, and— _ ah _ —the merfolk would be the sole owners of three-quarters of the Atlantic Ocean. Splendid.

As he signed his name on various pieces of parchment, Sirius billowed smoke out through the corner of his mouth and then stubbed his cigarette end on an official summons from the Wizengamot for the Office of the Ministry’s required presence in the antechamber that very evening for discussion of the next Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Load of tosh; it was going to be Harry Potter and they bloody well knew it. Youngest Headmaster in history, but his godson had better credentials than any of the other old wankers tossing their bowler hats into the mix.

The missives and legislation he placed in the  _ Outbox _ popped out of existence, leaving to bring joy and hope to whomever they affected.

Pleased with his work for the day, Sirius continued on with his Irish whiskey and Peruvian tobacco, enjoying the stupor he found himself in until the late evening. The portrait of the Prime Minister coughed and admonished him, but Sirius gestured with his middle finger and told him to “kindly fuck off.”

The enchanted window behind the old, oak desk turned dark; stars swirled around, the buttery moon hung low in a blue haze of clouds. He cleared the smoke from the office with a flamboyant wave of his wand and plugged the bottle of whiskey before floating it back into its locked cabinet. He’d just straightened out the stacks of parchment on the desk when there was a rough knock on the door.

Her rage-filled voice followed immediately after the knock. “Sirius Black, open this bloody door right now or so help me, Merlin himself won’t be able to save your arse.”

Sirius pulled his feet down from the top of the desk and straightened the knot of his tie, clearing his throat. Cracking a massive grin, he remained seated but opened the door from a distance using his wand. “‘Ello, love!”

Hermione Granger stood framed in the doorway. Official Ministry robes clung to her delicious body and her chestnut curls flew wildly around her head; it should have been frightening—a fit witch like that who could make the air around her crackle with magic. Narrowing her eyes, said witch advanced on him with menace chilling the room.

“What’ve you done?” she demanded, slamming her palms to the top of the desk. 

There was no stopping the smirk that curled his lips. “Don’t know to what you’re referring, darling.”

The ends of her hair sparked and her brow notched. “Why does it smell like smoke in here?”

Shrugging, Sirius widened his eyes in a picture of perfect innocence. “I don’t smell a thing.”

“Why the  _ hell _ is Magical Law Enforcement demanding a tribunal?” She pushed away from the desk and crossed her arms.

“Haven’t the foggiest, kitten.”

Her nostrils flared; she hated the moniker more than anything else. Sirius knew he was playing with fire, but Merlin’s tits, Hermione Granger was sexy as fuck when angry. “And why do you  _ reek _ of  _ my _ expensive whiskey?”

“I tripped. Fell into that locked cupboard of yours.” Standing from the chair finally, Sirius made his way around to her and placed his hands on either side of her face. “Complete accident. Might sue the Offices of the Ministry for these faulty rugs.”

“Sirius.” Canting her chin up to meet his eyes, Hermione sighed. “You can’t keep doing this. It’s unbecoming for the Minister’s consort to have his hands in any of the legislation that comes across her desk.”

Sirius lowered his lips just shy of hers, revelling in the way her breath hitched even after all these years. “Is the Minister’s consort allowed to have his hands in other things, I wonder.”

“If he doesn’t, what good is he?”   
  
It was all the permission he needed. Sirius claimed her lips and wrapped his fingers into her wild curls. The fire of the whiskey burned him from the inside and he poured that feeling into the kiss, pushing his tongue past the seam of her lips and lifting her onto the edge of her desk.

Oh, Sirius knew he’d face her wrath again in the afterglow of their fucking, but he’d grown immune to it. Honestly, a little bit of anarchy was nothing the Brightest Witch of Her Age couldn’t handle.


End file.
